Getting out of bed to go work is hard. There is this moment, well, moments, where I lay in bed and wish that I could bury my face in my pillow and sleep forever. And my alarm keeps going off. I stare at the ceiling fan above me, turning and turning. And I think. About responsibility, and about what lays for me beyond that bed.
Honestly, at the point I’m mostly thinking about coffee. But that’s not all I think about. I promise.
The morning drive often has at least a slight hint of dread to it. There’s something that’s just not all too invigorating about the thought of working for hours and hours upon end.
But when I finally do arrive to my job, get out of the car and shut the door, thankfulness sets in. Normally, this thankfulness stems from what I get by working. From credit. From money. From appreciation. But also, lately at least, this stems from the opportunity to work. And to have a chance to do work well.
A lot of my coworkers jokingly, or half-jokingly, complain about the boredom that stems from mountains of paperwork. From filing, copying, and memos. It’s fun to join in, because laughter feels good. It makes the glaring fluorescent lights a little more bearable.
One thing that I have tried to do a little differently with this job is to find joy in it through giving my best efforts. Through taking my work seriously. I often feel that I am a few steps away from becoming a Dwight Schrute, but part of what makes that character so funny is that work is not his goal.
There is something satisfying about a job well done. About not cutting corners. It’s tiring, but in the moment of hard work, it gives me a kind of energy. Refreshment. Athletes call this being “in the zone”. I was never much of an athlete, so I don’t really know what “the zone” is, but this is what I’d imagine it to be.
I never really know how to share my faith. Logically, a Christian-sponsored work environment isn’t necessarily the place to evangelize, but I see things every day that defy what I understand to be logical. Many of my coworkers don’t share my beliefs, which is something I’m fine with until they talk about beliefs. In which my mind tells me to vomit the basic Truths of Christianity in fifteen minutes.
That works for some people. But lately I’ve been wondering if silence in of itself is a kind of witness. Be honest with yourself–Christianity, or at least, religious Christianity, isn’t much of a secret in America. Most Westerners have heard of “Jesus”. I believe in Jesus, and I’m proud to believe in Him. But I don’t always believe in His “followers”. I wonder if we Westerners talk too much (in general, but especially about “Jesus”).
What if we witnessed through our actions rather than with our mouths?
A coworker of mine the other day was sharing their “lack of faith”, “agnosticism”, or whatever you’d like to call it. My other coworker rose up and asked question after question, offering basic digestible truths and advice. Watching that advice fall on deaf ears was a lot like watching water bead off of a raincoat.
I guess where I’m going with all this is that work is a kind of witness. And though work is hard in the same way that witnessing is hard, in doing so, we can learn to find joy in it. And this is what I have been doing lately, or at least today, through filing papers and making copies.
Today, I’m thankful for work. What are you thankful for?